


Unlucky, Blind and Burning

by cantabileChaos



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Car Accidents, Drug Use, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Love Triangles, Manipulation, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantabileChaos/pseuds/cantabileChaos
Summary: Johnny visits an old flame while on break with Kitty.





	1. Chapter 1

Being unlucky never stopped Johnny from looking for trouble, or maybe being unlucky is what brought the trouble to him. Either way, he was pretty happy narrowly escaping scrapes and always managing to piss off the wrong person. It seemed an odd lifestyle to enjoy, but apparently he wasn’t the only one. Maybe it was the danger, the bike, the look, or maybe it was the smooth talking. Maybe it was different each time. Maybe each girl that he coaxed into hopping onto the back of his bike was just as unlucky as he was. Maybe Kitty was the least lucky of them all.

The two of them had been on and off for what felt like a lifetime. They undoubtedly loved each other in some strange way, but could never seem to last for more than a few weeks before they were split up again. That’s when they became everyone else’s problem. The two of them spent all their time apart preying on any desperate, dumb or doe-eyed sap who would say yes. It was half to forget one another and half to make the other jealous. Every breakup was the final breakup, the absolute last straw, but usually only lasted until the other got lonely or sad or jealous. It didn’t take long. They broke countless hearts, and even let themselves grow fond of a few other flames, but always ended up in each other’s arms. That isn’t to say they both didn’t have a few backup plans.

That’s where Johnny was at the moment. He held a bouquet (and not a particularly attractive looking one) in his left hand as he knocked on the door with his right and prepared his best puppy-dog face. The apartment building he was in was musky and the floor felt like in was ready to cave in under his boots. Each apartment had a fancy metal number attached with little screws. The number had long rusted off of the door he had knocked on and only a pale trace was left behind. As he knocked again he could hear rustling inside, but no footsteps towards the door. He didn’t blame her. He couldn’t have been the only bad customer to frequent this run-down neighborhood.

“Come on, Mal-Mal. I can hear you in there,” Johnny teased while still trying to keep up his hurt animal act. Reluctant footsteps made their way towards the door. Johnny got down on one knee in preparation to put on his classic “Take Me Back” act. Three deadbolts were unlocked and a chain rattled against the wall as if tossed aside angrily.

“Did Kitty finally find a decent man, or is her headache just lasting a little too long this time?” A thin and tired looking woman stood at the door with her hand resting on her sharp hip bone. She had dark olive skin and dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. There were smears of color on her face which suggested the sloppy removal of makeup. She wore a dingy white tank top which showed the tattoos on her arms, one of which read “Johnny” in an elegant font over a red heart. There was a knife that had been almost seamlessly tattooed through the heart after the fact. If you knew what to look for, you could see a few stray lines which suggested that it hadn’t been part of the original tattoo. 

“Baby, I’ve been a fool.” Johnny held out the bouquet of half-wilted flowers. “You’ve always been the one for me. I’ve been blind this whole time. Please take me back, babe.” Johnny put on a pretty convincing show, but only if the audience had been born yesterday. The woman looked down at him unamused, but didn’t react in any particularly negative way.

“How many more times are you gonna try this on me,” The woman asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I guess until it stops working,” Johnny responded with a wry smile.

“Well, then consider this your final performance.” She began to close the door, but Johnny put out a foot and stopped it. She didn’t seem too annoyed by this.

“Listen, Lori, just let me stay the night. It’s cold out there, and I’ve already spent the last of my money on getting the bike fixed.” Johnny sounded almost genuine.

“Is this from the crash last time you dumped me, or are you really stupid enough to crash your bike twice in the same year?” Lori opened the door up again to continue the conversation.

“Three times,” Johnny corrected, pulling his shirt up to reveal a healing scar which crisscrossed with another which was pale and had obviously happened a long time ago. Lori wrinkled her nose at the sight of the ugly slash. “What can I say? I’m just an unlucky guy. You can change that, though, Mal-Mal.” Mallory couldn’t help but blush and feel a little sense of fondness for the man who had screwed her over so many times.

“You can stay, but this doesn’t mean we’re an item again,” Lori opened the door the rest of the way and Johnny practically sprinted inside and settled right onto his favorite spot on the couch. He sunk right in as if he had never left. The bouquet had already been tossed aside onto a coffee table. Lori was already regretting this, but was also fighting back a feeling of hopefulness. She knew her place in Johnny’s world. Kitty was always his number one, and Lori had no harsh feelings towards her for that , but some disgusting part of her wished that things could be different. Some misguided and sick part of her would always let Johnny stay at her place when he wasn’t with Kitty. And some broken and lonely part of her would always fall asleep on his chest when he did stay the night.

“Hey, no need to stand on my account. Get comfortable, babe.” Johnny was reclining into the corner of the couch like he always did with one leg up on the couch and the other still connecting with the floor. He hadn’t bothered to take off his boots, but the couch was filthy enough that it didn’t really matter. Most of the filth was from him, anyways. 

“Don’t call me babe like I’m your girl or something.” Lori closed and locked the door and then went towards the kitchen. Her bare feet made just a slight noise on the hardwood floors, but her walk was still distinctly angry. Johnny frowned before getting up and following.

“Come on, now. I may be with you-know-who a lot, but you know we’ve always had something special.” Johnny leaned into the kitchen to find Mallory angrily knocking back a beer and making direct eye contact with him. He was actually taken aback a little at the intensity in her look. “I thought you didn’t like beer.”

“I don’t like you,” Lori retorted before taking another rather large gulp. “You left this here last time, asshole.” She kept drinking with gusto purely out of spite. She finished one and moved on to a second. 

“Hey, baby, you know I don’t like seeing you get this way.” Johnny cautiously moved further into the kitchen. Lori was a notorious lightweight and wasn’t the type of person who should get drunk while upset.

“Don’t call me baby!” She turned away towards the counter and crumpled her face as if trying not to cry. She threw back her head and started chugging, visibly hating every drop. 

“I thought you liked it when I called you that, little Sour-y Mallory. Why you acting like this, Mal-Mal?” Johnny didn’t get any closer. He was honestly a little afraid she might hit him.

“Why do you always have to come back to me? Don’t you have some other poor girl in a short skirt to trick into falling in love with you?” Lori turned around and dropped her bottle.

“I told you, Mal-Mal. We’ve got something special. Sure, those other girls look good on the back of my bike and are good for a lonely night, but they’re all forgettable. I keep coming back to you, babe. Who, knows. Maybe I’ve been trying to make the wrong girl my steady all this time.” Johnny moved in a little closer, but didn’t block the exit.

“Bullshit.” Mallory nearly spat the words out. “You’re gonna be licking Kitty’s heels till she finally wises up and gets herself a good man who doesn’t go around crashing his bike to get chicks to sign his cast and kiss him better. She’s gonna end up with a doctor and you’re still gonna be out there conning people into paying you not to sue them.”

“And where will you be?” Johnny leaned against the wall, trying to keep his composure. He always was worried that one day Kitty would break up with him once and for all, but for real this time. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if that happened. He’d probably be where he was now, as long as Lori didn’t completely hate him by that point.

“I’ll be reading in the paper about some loser without a penny to his name who died in a bike crash and got buried in an unmarked grave because nobody knew his name.” Lori was already a little tipsy and was visibly swaying every time she put a little too much force into her movements

“I don’t know about that. I mean, all they gotta do is read your tattoo.” Johnny pointed slyly towards her arm where his name was beautifully marked forevermore. Much to Kitty’s dismay, he had come back to her one time with a matching tattoo on his arm which read “Mallory” in an equally elegant tattoo script. Unlike its counterpart, his was unaltered, but had a few small scars slashing through it from an accident he had gotten into. He watched Mallory cover up her arm, and instinctually touched his arm through his jacket. He was actually a bit worried that he had finally permanently burnt the bridge between himself and Lori. “Do you remember when we got these tattoos? It was the day that we almost died.” Johnny smiled as he tried to get Lori to stop being mad at him.

“It was the day I almost died. For you it was just a normal Saturday.” Lori crossed her arms and calmed down a little.

“We got matching tattoos and you got a scar to match mine.” Johnny finally closed the gap he had deliberately left and got close to Lori. She looked away, trying to act angry. With his left hand he traced a wide crescent shape over her ribs on her right side. His finger lined up almost perfectly with the slightly raised scar tissue he knew was under her shirt. His scar was much older and was just another ghost of shed blood on his body. Hers was newer, it healed in the color of holy wine whereas his was just a few shades lighter than the rest of his skin. Of course, at this point his skin could very well have been nothing but scars. Lori shivered a little at his touch.

“You’re bad news, Johnny. You always hurt me. Maybe I’m the unlucky one.” Lori looked up at him. After pulling his hand away, he re-established the cautious distance he had originally maintained. He wasn’t pulling that old devious smirk that he always seemed to have plastered to his face. It was hard to read him when he was being genuine.

“I-” Johnny started to say something, but couldn’t quite finish his thought. “We could go out for a ride like old times.” The smirk was back and whatever brief wave of humanity had washed over Johnny had passed. Lori looked tempted for a split second, but she quickly looked away and forced her face back into a display of contempt. Johnny noticed and smiled more. “Mal-Mal…” He leaned into her line of sight.

“I am not,” The woman emphasized the third word with a swipe of the hand. “Getting back on that death trap.” She straightened her back. “Nor will I ever shed another tear or drop of blood for you.” She moved around Johnny and out into the living room where she practically threw herself onto the couch and crossed her arms. Johnny followed casually, almost taking a little too long between each step.

“I can tell when you’re faking being mad at me, Mal-Mal. That’s the only thing you ever fake when you’re with me.” Johnny smiled and leaned on the wall.

“Shut up.” Mallory clicked on the television. It was turned to one of those cheesy horror flicks with a dolled up woman being attacked by a man in a bad costume.

“Hey, that lady kind of looks like you. All covered in mud and with twigs in her hair, it’s a striking resemblance.” Johnny sat down on the couch next to Mallory who scooted over in defiance.

“And that looks like you.” Mallory pointed to the latex monster on the screen. “It has your smile.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, if that’s me I guess I’d better…” Johnny put his hands up like claws and made a little growling sound. He gently lunged towards Lori who put her hands up and did a fake movie scream. The two wrestled lightly, throwing in little references to the movie. Then, everything came to a sudden halt as the two met each other’s eyes. There was just one moment of warmth, one second of intimacy as old memories flashed over each of their eyes.

“I can’t do this again,” Lori plead, with the suggestion of a sob in the back of her throat. Johnny sat up and helped her sit up as well. “I can’t fall in love with you again. You’re gonna go back to Kitty in the end. You always do.”

“Maybe this time is different. Maybe I’m not going back to Kitty, maybe I’m coming back to you.” Johnny didn’t realized he was holding both of Mallory’s hands in his. They weren’t like Kitty’s. They were small like hers, but rough and powerful. They were the hands of somebody who knew how to fight, somebody who didn’t have anyone to protect her. He and Kitty were always partners in love and life, but Mallory had been his partner in crime and in laughing in death’s face. At least, they had been back in the day. It had been a long time since the days when Mallory went looking for trouble around every corner. She had changed, maybe she had finally outgrown him. 

“I think we both know that’s never gonna happen.” Mallory pulled her hands away and sat back on the couch, looking just above the television at the empty wall above. 

“Come on, Mal-Mal.” Johnny leaned over and put one arm around her lower back, gently running his fingers under her chin with the other hand. She followed his lead instinctually. “Since when did you start giving a shit about the future. We’re here now, our scars have healed over and our bones aren’t broken. We’ve got blood in our veins and air in our lungs. Why question now?” Lori was now almost completely on her back with Johnny posed over her, casting his shadow in the dim yellow light. “We may not be so lucky later.” He leaned in and kissed the woman underneath him. She didn’t fight back, but knew in the back of her mind that she was making the same mistake all over again. One mistake led to another that night before they both passed out in Mallory’s unmade bed. 

Mallory woke up with the sun as Johnny laid still completely asleep on his stomach. He always was more of a night owl. His jacket and shirt had been tossed somewhere onto the floor and Mallory studied the tattoos which littered his back and arms. There was no real method nor theme to the markings. His skin looked like it was decorated by a bored student who had taken to doodling instead of doing their classwork. There were simple designs you would see in a magazine and creatures like dragons and big cats baring their teeth. It all came together in some chaotic collage of drunken nights and bad choices. Most of all, there were names. Some of them were names of friends who had died in one way or another. Lori recognized a lot of them. David LeGuard had ridden beside them too many times to count. A splintering wooden cross still stood at the side of the highway where he had taken his final ride. Lucille Fernando was the most loyal friend Mallory had known. She would have fought to her last breath for the people she cared about, and she did. Carson “Rusty” Jackson probably saved both of their lives on more than one occasion. That made it all the more painful to hold his hand as he bled out on the sidewalk in front of his workshop. His final request was to have the whole place burned to the ground. Johnny and Mallory had watched in silence as the flames crackled violently, as if they mourned as well. It seemed like every free space between a rose and a cobra had a name or two filling the void. They belonged to both fallen friends and ex-lovers. Some of them belonged to both. Most of the names belonging to exes were crossed out. Most, not all. Some had been unintentionally crossed out by thin white scars. 

Mallory ran a hand over her arm where his name had been branded onto her for life. Then, she read her own name on his arm. She wondered if there would ever be a cross through it, or the letters “RIP”. Why did she feel that her death would almost definitely be his fault in some way. Just as she began to imagine all the horrible ways she could die, Johnny began to stir.   
“You know I don’t like it when you watch me sleep,” Johnny joked, his voice husky with remnants of sleep. “It makes me feel like you’re planning to kill me.

“You know I’d never strike while your guard is down. I want it to be honorable when I finally kill you.” Mallory began to untangle herself from the covers in an attempt to get out of bed, but Johnny turned over and began to reach towards her clumsily.

“What’s the hurry, Mal-Mal?” His rough hands landed on her waist, causing goosebumps to spread across her skin as if it had been chilled by his gently touch. Once again, Johnny traced the dark scar on her skin. “It still looks like it happened only weeks ago.” His hands moved to Mallory’s stomach before gently pulling away, sending a soft waved through her body as they gently brushed against her. Johnny half sat up and half crawled over just close enough so he could plant a kiss at the center of the scar, letting his hands grasp firmly wherever they landed. From her position, Mallory couldn’t see the painfully human look on Johnny’s face. His brow furrowed and his eyes lowered in both regret and what could have been love if any other man felt it. He rested his head against the woman’s back, his greasy blond hair contrasting against her dark skin. “I still remember seeing you in front of me, illuminated by flames and bleeding into the black asphalt. The adrenaline kept me from noticing how hurt I was, but I was too worried about you to even care. Your eyes were closed and there was a stream of clotting blood running from both your nostrils. A few times, I was sure you had died when I couldn’t tell if you were breathing or not. Then, your eyes fluttered open. They reflected every flame perfectly, all glassy like a cursed doll. I didn’t know what was gonna happen. I didn’t know if you’d be angry or start crying in agony or even understand what was happening, and then something happened. You smiled. You reached out slowly with your dirty and bloody hand as if you were gonna stroke my hair, but you were too far away. I grabbed your hand as fast as I could just to let you know I was there. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew your hand was broken. I watched you slowly lose consciousness again. It felt like we were lying there for hours, but it had only been minutes before the ambulance got there on that nearly empty highway. I’m surprised anyone even drove past that night. That could have been my final ride, but I never felt close to death or helpless with your tiny, broken hand in mine. You were my lucky charm.”

The two sat in perfect stillness, reliving the night. Both had a completely different medley of emotions attached to that crash. Mallory still couldn’t see Johnny , but felt his forehead press harder into her back. The sunlight sliced through the dark room, covering most of Mallory’s unclothed body in a soft warmth. Johnny stayed mostly in her shadow. The sunlight only touched his hands where they gripped her. After a long silence, Mallory slowly pulled the covers back over her body and laid herself down, letting her body fit into Johnny’s. They didn’t fit perfectly together like couples were supposed to, but it didn’t much matter. Johnny held onto her as if someone was trying to steal her away. Mallory let herself believe she was special to Johnny, though she knew he probably held Kitty like this every night they were together.


	2. Entertainer

Johnny looked so natural stradling the bike. It was like an extension of his own body. The dents and scratches and decals were like a reflection of his marked skin. Mallory kept her distance. She loved his bike, but it had hurt her just like him. The back of the seat in no way belonged to her. She was just an accessory like every other girl. Even Kitty didn’t own that seat. Johnny held out a hand, smiling his usual smile. The one that could convince a mouse to paint a hungry cat’s claws. Mallory reluctantly took his hand and climbed on the back of the motorcycle. It felt so natural and yet so wrong. When they started moving, it was like they had traveled back in time. Mallory could almost feel David, Lucille and Rusty riding beside them. It felt as if some imbalance in the world had just been restored. She watched the people and colors fly by. There were children who looked scared and some who looked on in excitement, almost all accompanied by disapproving parents. The city was full of familiar and new faces, but they all looked like blurs from where she was sitting. Johnny’s blond hair whipped around in the wind and occasionally hit her in the face, but it was okay. Mallory removed one arm from around Johnny and used it to pull the tie from her hair. The dark waves flowed behind her, moving slightly differently than Johnny’s due to the lack of grease weighing it down. Mallory couldn’t help but smile and hang on tighter than she probably needed to. Everything felt right in the world. One face in the crowd changed all that, though.

At a red light, Kitty’s bright blue eyes pierced Mallory’s from the sidewalk. They looked soft and surprised for a moment. The two had met before. There was obviously always a bit of tension, but no personal hatred from either end, more of a mutual anger towards Johnny. At times, it even seemed that the two could have become friends, but there was too much standing between them. For just a moment, there was only confusion, then flames. Jealousy, recognition, anger. Mallory felt her stomach drop at the intensity in Kitty’s glare. The light changed, and Johnny sped forward, completely unaware of of the blue eyes burning into his back. Mallory was able to slip away and become lost in the ride again, but occasionally remembered the encounter and felt the weight of that glare on her shoulders.

The sun was beginning to set and Mallory was growing increasingly aware of the fact that she was nowhere near her apartment. Johnny seemed to be on autopilot, barely aware of how restless Mallory was growing. Mallory rested her forehead against Johnny’s back, the leather of his jacket still warm from the sun which had still hung above only moments ago. She closed her eyes and thought of nothing, fully aware of the dangers of drifting off. The roar of the motorcycle barely meant anything to her ears at this point. She wondered how Johnny wasn’t completely deaf by now. Her arms tightened slightly around Johnny’s torso, and they began to slow down as if in response to this action.

“We’re here,” Johnny said after coming to a complete stop. Mallory hadn’t been aware they were going anywhere. She got off the bike, feet connecting shakily with the broken and dusty asphalt below. It took no time at all to recognize the location. A small, half-destroyed bar sat in front of her. It looked more like a giant cardboard box with a few decorations inside than a former business. The counter was still intact and polished, but covered in ash and dust. There wasn’t a drop of alcohol left inside. It had been looted along with anything else of value. Two barstools still stood, but only one looked safe to sit on. Well, mostly safe. “Do you remember?”

“Of course,” Mallory answered softly. She began to walk forward. There was no door to keep them out. All that stood in their way was some police tape, chewed up by the elements and flying free, no longer connecting on both ends. No one cared enough about this place anymore to monitor it. There was nothing left to steal or tamper with and it was too much of a hassle to send anyone out to patrol. No one even cared enough to demolish it. 

“I’m surprised to remember. You were pretty shitfaced.” Johnny walked ahead and kicked open what was left of the door- a slab of wood which was connected by the bottom hinge and stood no more than four inches off the ground at its highest point. It was mostly singed, but a tiny bit of peeling red paint remained. 

“I was just having fun.” Mallory walked through what could have been considered the doorway. She moved a little debris with her foot and examined the tacky tile floor beneath her. It was incredibly dirty, but mostly still intact. When she looked down at the tile, it was like nothing had changed.

She was a teenager again. Well, technically an adult, but a young adult. Her hair was teased and sprayed up into some horrible style with unnatural colors mixed in. She was wearing red lipstick which had become horribly smeared as the night went on and some obnoxiously colored eyeshadow. She stumbled in the heels she wasn’t quite used to yet and had a habit of playing with the large gold hoops in her ears too much. The owner of the bar knew she was too young, but she was a regular, and the other customers liked her. They bought her too many drinks and asked her fool’s questions. She was there too much. The owner didn’t mind. He liked her, too. 

Mallory ran a hand across the bar. There were advertisements for other local businesses permanently printed underneath a clear layer. Most of them had gone out of business. She could smell the crappy fried food that they used to serve to the drunkards and the vagabonds. It was a wonder she stayed thin, living off the chicken and fries. Maybe it was the other substances those old men used to offer her. Every now and then a cute, young stranger would come in and charm her, but they always had some pretty blonde to chase after when morning came around. The old men always came back for attention. 

Johnny walked up to a collapsed and half-burned pool table and mimed playing. He could see the neon lights and the scrunched up faces of angry men he had conned out of their drinking money. He got into trouble every time he walked through that door, but he always got out alive and always came back. 

It was a wonder they hadn’t met sooner. Maybe by some strange chance, they just never inhabited the building at the same time, but that just couldn’t be. Maybe his wolf’s gaze never got the chance to rest on the leather mini skirt surrounded by desperate old men with too much money and not enough patience for punks like him. Maybe her dreamer’s heart just couldn’t hear his young soul calling over all the tired lines and propositions. Maybe they weren’t supposed to meet at all.

Mallory sat down in the one stable barstool. It wasn’t the one she always used to sit at, but it felt the same. She used to sit there so long that her legs would feel tingly when she finally stood up. Some nights she’s get up to go use the restroom or smoke and someone would have deliberately taken her seat. Too many times had some burly man patted his lap and too many times had she forced out a giggle and taken a seat. The owner stepped in occasionally when the men got too rough or handsy. To say she was like a daughter to him was a little too generous. She was more like a stray cat he had grown fond of. Sometimes he had to chase off the dogs.

Johnny wasn’t the owner’s favorite patron, but he was a paying customer nonetheless. Besides, he was fun when he wasn’t causing problems or drinking himself stupid. He was also a little younger than the average regular. He was just old enough to buy his own drinks, and seemed to be taking full advantage of that. Aside from wagers and cons, it was a mystery how he was making any money to spend. Occasionally (particularly when tensions were a little too high), he’d even buy a round for the whole bar. Yet he still never caught the attention of Mallory, and she never seemed to catch his eye.

Mallory drew little loops and nothings on the counter with her finger. The ash and dust was thick and left her fingertip black. There was a broken glass on the counter beside her. She began to cautiously play with the pieces. Glasses used to get broken all the time back in the day. Johnny alone broke and payed for enough to buy up a whole new bar. Mallory only ever broke one. It was a busy Friday night and she was getting an awful lot of attention from some of the patrons. Some guys from a college football team had also drifted in without letting their coach know. Mallory had already had more than her limit by the time things really picked up. Her limit wasn’t exactly a lot to begin with. She stumbled out of her seat, trying to make her way towards the young athletes who sat nervously together at a booth. 

At the same time, Johnny was making his way over. A bunch of rich college kids would be easy to scam. The two met at the table at the same time, seemingly unaware of each other until they were too physically close not to notice one another. Mallory was first to act, leaning over the table with her shirt unbuttoned and picking out one of the players. They all looked so scared and innocent for such muscular men. They had probably come out looking for a good time and only found a musky biker bar full of men twice their size with nothing to lose.

“What’s a young buck like yourself doing in this old place,” Mallory slurred, flipping her overly styled hair over her shoulder with one hand. She discreetly pulled her already too short skirt up a little to show more leg. The football player stuttered. Johnny was watching Mallory in confusion, as if she had just materialized next to him out of thin air. He quickly regained his footing and continued with his scheme.

“My friend here has a point. These men will eat kids like you alive. If I was all of y’all I’d stick with me as to not get yourselves killed.” Johnny was probably no older than the football players, but he was undoubtedly more experienced than them. 

Mallory and Johnny spent a while going back and forth, neither one making much progress in their respective missions. Neither seemed to pay the other much mind. Finally, one of the players ordered a drink. When the waitress, who kindly regarded both Johnny and Mallory, set it down, the boy slid it closer to Mallory. It was obvious to everyone there that she had already had too much, but she accepted graciously. Johnny stayed at the table, still trying a little too desperately to haggle. He was also staying out of curiosity. The boy who had ordered the drink had been the quietest of the group and still barely spoke as he encouraged Mallory to have another. 

Before long, the athlete had the drunk girl on his lap giggling her head off. He had now had a few himself and was beginning to get a bit handsy. Johnny was holding up a conversation with the other two, but was also keeping an eye on the situation. He wasn’t exactly a righteous man who never hit on a drunk girl before, but something wasn’t sitting right. The football player kept ordering more and kept persuading Mallory to drink more. His friends had knocked a few back as well, but not enough for guys their size to really feel anything. The whole table began to feel uneasy as the drunkest player began to slip his hands under the skirt of the girl on his lap who was barely maintaining consciousness. His friends began to gently coax him into turning in for the night. He spat out an angry “Fine” before half-throwing Mallory off his lap. She couldn’t maintain her balance and fell to the ground. One of the more sober football players guided his friend out while the other stayed to help Mallory up, apologizing repeatedly as he helped her back into the booth and scurried out. Mallory picked up a half full glass of beer and began to sip sadly.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Johnny said suavely, trying to ignore what just happened.

“I can have more.” Mallory could barely form the words and swayed as she sat. She stood up, holding the glass and barely took two steps before stumbling and landing as the glass smashed beneath her hand. No one looked over at the sound of glass shattering. It was pretty standard on a busy night. Mallory looked as if she was trying to push herself off the ground, but didn’t have the strength.

“Hey now, woah there. Let’s get you back into your seat.” Johnny fumbled with Mallory on the floor for a moment, trying to get a good hold on her as she weakly tried to get up on her own. Eventually, she was back in the booth. She put a hand to her forehead, brushing her hair back and leaving a wide smear of blood behind. “Did you hit your head?” Johnny examined her head where there was blood before realizing it was from her hand. Mallory sat, swaying slightly, as Johnny shakily picked little bits of glass out of her hand. 

“Where’d everyone else go?” Mallory looked down at Johnny who was trying to see if he missed any bits of glass, but was having trouble seeing in the dim lighting of the bar. 

“They’re all heading home for the night, and so should you.” Johnny was holding Mallory’s hand in both of his, gently flattening it out so the light could shine over it evenly and produce no shadows. It looked a lot worse than it was. 

Mallory turned around in the one remaining barstool of the once busy bar. None of the booths were fully intact anymore. Most had been completely charred and the remaining few had been worn away with time. Johnny was absently kicking dust and debris around. He looked disappointed, as if he had expected something other than what he had found. Maybe, in his child’s mind, he was hoping to find some lost artifact or clue in the wreckage of the bar. There was nothing, thought. Only booze-fogged memories and ash.

“You’re a troublemaker, but a good soul, Johnny,” The owner declared as he took over cleaning Mallory’s wound. The light of the kitchen made the job a lot easier. Johnny hunched over the sink, filling up a glass of water and handing it to Mallory, who smiled before nearly dropping it. “‘Lotta guys wouldn’t take the time out of their nights to do this. Hate to say it, but a lot woulda had something else in mind.” Mallory didn’t have much to say, other than some slurred ramblings. 

“Is there anyone who can come pick her up?” Johnny sat against the wall beside Mallory. She sipped at the cup of warm water, looking down into it as if she saw something within. 

“She’s been coming around for months and I’ve never seen another person come in with her or drop her off. I doubt she’s living with her folks, and if she is they must not care much to be letting her walk herself out here every other night and mingle with scoundrels and punks like you.” The owner stood up and headed towards the door leading back out into the main bar area. “I don’t like letting y’all drunkards freeload around here, but she’s in poor enough condition I could make an exception. I can’t say I’ll be able to see it in my heart to let you do the same, though.” The owner smiled sternly down at Johnny. He was a harsh and stoic man, but begrudgingly generous to those who deserved it. 

Johnny had been invited to the old man’s funeral. Many had attended, only two were family members. Most of the somber faces belonged to regular patrons, some to old friends and some to those who refused to disclose their relationship to the man. The traditionally formal event housed more leather than black ties and more boots than dress shoes. Mallory sat close to the owner’s two siblings, between them and the cook and waitress. The old man never let many people get close to him, so just seeing him on a regular basis without getting insulted or yelled at to “buy something or get your lazy ass out of here” was considered a close friendship. Mallory had never realized that letting her take up that same seat without always buying a drink was his way of saying he cared. 

Johnny made his way over to where Mallory sat, contemplating. He got close, still not fully gaining her attention. He took her face in both his hands and kissed her. It seemed more like an attention-grab than a tender gesture. 

“I think I would’ve preferred for this place to have completely burned to the ground with nothing left behind. Seeing it all fucked up like this is depressing.” Johnny leaned against the counter beside where Mallory sat. 

“It seems like no one’s left to remember it but us. Maybe when we’re gone the rest of it will crumble away.” Mallory leaned forward and let gravity pull her out of her seat. 

After that night, whatever barriers had prevented the two from noticing each other had fallen. Mallory had woken up in that greasy old kitchen with a hangover and a memory of a boy with ratty blond hair and freckles handling her so much more gently than most of the men she’s met. Johnny rode away that night with the feeling of her body still in his hands, feeling as if he had stolen those touches when no one was looking. There was something lingering with him. It wasn’t desire, but more like intrigue. What was a girl that young doing dolled up in a bar late at night. She had originally struck Johnny as a hooker, but she seemed too unprofessional. Then he thought maybe she was just a naive high schooler who snuck out to mess around in an act of teenage rebellion, but apparently she had been hanging around that place for quite a while. Apparently she was just young and down on her luck, which is where most people are where Johnny rolled into their lives. She was just another viable plaything for him until she either got hurt or turned her life around.

The two just exchanged looks at first, not even really smiling just making eye contact and half-heartedly raising a hand slightly in acknowledgment. At first Mallory, wasn’t even sure that was the same guy, and she didn’t fully remember his significance. Johnny just studied the girl, wondering what her end goal was in sitting in that stool every night. She wore the same few outfits in rotation and always had an oil slick of colors painted on her face. Her hair looked like it never got a break from the teasing and hairspray, so it probably would never be healthy again until it was all chopped off. The fishnets she wore seemed more torn apart every time she sat down at that bar. She wore tight and brightly colored skirts usually accompanied by a top which was really only a formality in that it barely covered much of anything. She wasn’t particularly pretty, but she wasn’t exactly unattractive. Most of her appeal came from her youth and apparently endless patience with the men who grabbed and pinched her. The strange thing was, it was Johnny who became worn down over time by this. She sat in that same spot with the same energy and the same smile every night as strangers treated her like a complimentary treat, like she was no different than the dish of mints or the free peanuts. Johnny kept waiting for her to snap, and it just never happened.

The middle of the ashy room was mostly cleared out. It hadn’t been so spacious back in the day. There had still been a good amount of wiggle room, though, to allow the drunkards to pass through without tripping or knocking anything over. Mallory stepped out into the space slowly, almost as if she was walking in tempo with one of the old slow songs that used to play late at night when almost everyone had left but her and a few other sadsacks with no wives or jobs to go to. Johnny watched her hips sway with every rhythmic knock of her boots on the floor. Tiny clouds of dust and ash swelled under her feet. She straightened one leg and pointed her toe out in front of her, bringing it around in a sweeping motion around the other leg. There was a light circle drawn in the dust around where she stood.

“Did I ever tell you I used to do ballet?” Mallory did a few more motions with her arms and legs. She looked a little too stiff, but not sloppy. 

“You did tell me. In fact, I think you’ve asked that exact question more times than you’ve said my name,” Johnny teased, walking up to Mallory and gently placing both hands on her sides. 

It was a particularly busy Friday night. Along with the usual crowd, there were groups of loud and rowdy people crowded around booths and tucked into corners. There was no special occasion, just a busy night. Johnny wasn’t quite feeling it that night. His usual mischief was being inhibited by some foul mood which had overtaken him for no apparent reason. The crowd wasn’t helping. It seemed like every step he took just brought him to increasingly uncomfortable positions between burly men and rowdy boys. He would have killed for a seat. Like the clouds parting, he could see an empty stool in through the crowd. He pushed his way through and claimed it by nearly leaping into it as to prevent anyone else from taking the opportunity from him. 

Mallory weaved through the crowd, suffering through a few gropes and pinches on her way to her seat. She stopped at the sight of a lanky figure slouching over the counter, perched in her usual seat. She apparently made a sour face involuntarily, because one of the men watching her next to Johnny chuckled and gave him an amused nudge. Johnny turned around fully ready to fight someone at first, but then saw the girl standing before him and suddenly felt like his mood was lifted slightly. Not because the sight of her was particularly appealing, but because he felt an opportunity arising to really ruffle her feathers. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this your seat?” Johnny looked down in amusement. The girl seemed so much smaller when she wasn’t adorning the barstool like a trophy. She had her hands on her hips, but not in an impatient manner. That seemed to just be the way her body came to rest. She smiled and took in a breath before speaking.

“Oh, no worries,” She answered gleefully. “I just had to go take care of something real quick. I would greatly appreciate it if I could sit back down, though.” She stood with a smile still splitting her face, waiting for the act of chivalry to occur. Johnny smiled again and leaned back on the counter, eyes looking down over his nose at the girl. 

“No problem. I’ll just finish up the drink I just ordered and be out of your hair.” Mallory waited patiently as Johnny sipped almost daintily at a beer from one of those brands only broke college students and people at tailgate parties drank. He finished up and almost immediately ordered another. He looked to Mallory, who had once again let her emotions show on her face. “Oh, my apologies. I totally forgot our deal. Just let me finish up this next one and then you can have your seat back.” The man next to Johnny who had originally notified him to Mallory’s presence was snickering a little. He seemed amused by the two kids’ game. Mallory fixed her face again, baring her teeth in a smile which would be convincing to most drunken horny fools. 

“No problem at all. I’ve got nowhere to be tonight.” The last sentence carried a snag at the end that almost made it sound like a threat. She wouldn’t be going anywhere. This time, when Johnny got his beer, he turned to face the girl. He leaned back again and made eye contact at he deliberately drank as slow as possible. He felt a bit like a king. Mallory kept an equally cool manner to her, standing with one hip cocked and keeping at least a hint of a smile on her face the whole time.

“I’ll have another, please,” Johnny said to the waitress as he finished his second beer. He barely turned his head away from Mallory as he spoke and returned his gaze onto her with a grin. There was a little spark in her eye which was just what Johnny had been working towards. “Oh, I’m very sorry. I just forgot again. I’ll just finish this next one up and be on my way.” Mallory just smiled and nodded this time. The waitress set another uncapped bottle in front of Johnny. She seemed to be gaining an awareness of what was happening, but didn’t have time to interfere or watch in amusement like the man in the next seat over. Johnny sipped, ever slow and deliberate, barely breaking eye contact with the girl who still refused to show any negative emotion. Let me break you, Johnny thought to himself. 

He had been watching this girl for weeks just waiting for her to finally snap, but it never happened. She seemed fine with the whole thing, but it ate away at Johnny. No human should be able to go through such a crummy existence almost every day and still act this chipper and patient. He wasn’t even sure why it meant so much to him to see her have an outburst, but every time he hung out in that bar he waited for it. Maybe he had missed it. He wasn’t there every single night. Maybe it happened when he wasn’t there and then after letting all that pressure burst she just went back to normal the next night. Had he really started going more often just so he wouldn’t miss it happening? How many times had he just sat and creeped on the girl from a corner booth or a half-assed game of pool? Why was this driving him more insane than it was driving her? Maybe she was just already insane. Maybe she had reached bedrock in her brain and couldn’t go any deeper into insanity. Maybe Johnny had missed a thousand outbursts before she had become this passive, compliant doll. Maybe he was just thinking too much into this.

“Could I get another, please?” Johnny called the waitress over and she produced another bottle almost instantly, as if she had predicted what was coming. Before Johnny could cast another devious look, the girl’s voice rang out with just a little too much determination considering her request.

“Make it two, please.” Mallory stepped towards the counter then turned to Johnny after the bottle was placed in front of her. “You can stay as long as you’d like, as long as you don’t mind company.” Before Johnny could come up with a witty response, the girl sloppily pulled herself up onto his lap. She leaned in to whisper in Johnny’s ear, a more genuine and equally devious smile on her face. “You think you’re the first boy to get his kicks by fucking with me? You’re no different than any of the old men who come in to play with my hair or stick a hand up my skirt. Let’s just see who breaks first.” Johnny was caught off guard for a good second, but regained his footing and decided to make things fun.

“Woah there, sweetcheeks,” He announced a little too loudly. “No need to move so fast.” A few heads turned, but most of the other patrons chose to actively ignore what was going on. Underneath the makeup, Mallory was as red as a radish. This time Johnny leaned in, though he didn’t make as much of an effort to keep his voice down. “I’ve never been one to back down when challenged.” His breath tickled Mallory’s neck and ear and a small shiver ran through her, but she knew she was in control here. She turned to grab her beer, but her legs were stopped by the counter. She scooched further back into Johnny, purposely moving around as much as possible on top of him.

The two both discreetly and indiscreetly battled with each other for almost an hour. Sometimes one would announce something loudly to embarrass the other- that was mostly Johnny. Sometimes one would move around or touch the other in a strategic way to rile them up- that was mostly Mallory. It was a war between two masters of composure who were each trying to get the other to crack, but to anyone on the outside it just looked like two kids getting frisky in a bar. Things started to escalate when Mallory finally seemed to hit a sweet spot with Johnny while moving on his lap. A smile spread across her face, but she was facing away from him so he couldn’t see. She move just a little more and could feel him even more. She moved just discreetly enough that it wasn’t too obvious to other in the bar, but for Johnny it was overwhelming. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew that she had won. His breathing was heavier and it had been a while since he’d tried any other tricks. 

“Damn, are you actually enjoying this, hotshot? I think you’ve had enough.” Mallory scooted back towards Johnny’s knees feeling pleased with herself and her victory. She was about to turn to face Johnny when she felt his rough gloved hands come up and grab her hips, pulling her back onto him with an almost desperate force. 

“Keep going.” He sounded as if he was trying to sound cool and collected, but there was almost a hint of pleading in his voice. One hand traveled under her tight skirt between her legs and everything fell apart from there. Everything between there and the the women’s bathroom seemed like a blur. The two had a good amount of privacy, considering the considerable lack of women in the establishment. It didn’t feel real. It felt hot and damn it felt good, but not real. 

“Next time, just ask like a normal person, hotshot. This seemed like a lot of work to go to just for a lay.” Mallory was getting her clothes back on, trying to conceal the way her legs were shaking. Johnny was fastening his belt, still coming to terms with reality again. 

“I wasn’t trying to flirt with you,” He retorted, a little too defensive. 

“Well then whatever you were doing, you must have really fucked up.” Mallory laughed a little and then left Johnny behind in the stall. He had messed up. He was trying to get the girl to snap, but just when he was making progress she flipped the script.  
The wind blew outside and it swept right through the half-burned building. Both Johnny and Mallory shivered a little. This prompted Johnny to pull Mallory closer. He moved his hand from her hips and ran them gently up her body before resting his arms over her shoulders, letting them wrap loosely around her. His chin rested on her head for a moment as they both stared into nothing. It felt like an oddly tender and intimate place to be, all things considered. It wasn’t clear which one started it, but they both began to sway slightly, moving to that imaginary music.

The problem with finally getting acquainted with each other was that now each of the two were very aware of the other every time they were in the bar at the same time, which had become a more regular occurrence. Things hadn’t changed much other than that, though. Mallory still sat at the bar and Johnny still made his rounds winning money off other patrons. He still waited for her to blow her top over there, sometimes interfering in an effort to speed things along. 

There was a night when things had begun to slow down. There was just a small scattering of people, mostly just guys trying to forget their jobs or the women who left them. Johnny was there, Mallory was there. Both were feeling the effects of the low mood, but refused to show it. Johnny approached Mallory at the bar with his usual intent of mischief. 

“If it isn’t the princess on her throne,” He opened with a little mocking bow. Where are your suitors?” The seats next to Mallory were empty, which was rare.

“I don’t know, maybe they’re in the same place you left your dignity.” Mallory turned around. She had ordered nothing despite being seated for quite a long time.

“You’re one to talk about dignity, you freeloader,” Johnny mocked with a smile. “Run out of singles from your last show or something?” 

“Run out of space to keep your giant mouth?” Mallory crossed her arms.

“Did I catch you on a slow night? Usually by now you’ve had enough customers to pay for a few drinks.” Johnny put his hands in his packets and snickered.

“Very funny, jackass. I’m not a hooker.” Mallory was actually beginning to show signs of being annoyed.

“You sure act like one. You’re always up here, batting your eyes and tee-heeing at old men with extra cash. What, do you just really enjoy their company or something?” Johnny watched as Mallory began to visibly grow more upset. “Can’t keep a man or find a job so you just do yourself up all pretty and twirl your hair on your finger until someone buys you a drink?”  
“Shut up. Ass.” Mallory was no longer putting any effort into acting calm and collected. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something in Johnny’s voice and the stupid smirk on his face just set her off more than any of the other guys she had dealt with. The difference was that other men just wanted to persuade her into sleeping with them. She could take advantage of that. She could act dumb and sweet long enough to get free stuff until they either went away or got their fill. This guy had some other agenda. She didn’t know how to exploit it and she definitely didn’t know how to make him go away, and now he was sitting in front of her insulting her with that same dumb grin as if he was spouting pick up lines instead of criticisms. 

“Did I strike a nerve? I’d better be careful or else you’ll send one of your boyfriends after me.” Johnny was taking in every second he got to make Mallory fume. He had no idea how close she was to finally snapping. “A little princess like you, you probably have some big, strong, rich father to chase off the mean boys like me.”

“I’m serious. Back the fuck off.” Mallory felt memories flooding back that she had been keeping pushed down for ages. Teenage anger that she had repressed and frustration at the hand she had been dealt- it was like Johnny was purposely digging it all up. He was obviously trying to get a rise out of her, but somehow he had struck just the right vein.

“Or what? Are you gonna tell daddy dearest that some mean boy at the bar touched you and then didn’t propose afterwards? Sorry chick, I’m-” Johnny was cut off by a swift blow to the jaw and an almost incomprehensible shout. He saw stars for a moment. Holy shit that girl knew how to punch. He stood completely still for a second, in a state of shock. He turned slowly to see the girl with her fist still up, shoulders heaving and teeth gritted in an angry snarl. There was just the suggestion of tears welling up in her eyes. There was silence and near stillness. Johnny slowly brought a hand up to where she had hit him. It was undoubtedly going to bruise. “You don’t disappoint, kid.” It was said not with his normal mocking tone, but with genuine surprise and maybe even respect. “I was beginning to worry you’d just let anyone push you around.”

There was something that changed that night. The two began to talk, to genuinely talk. They insults were left at the sideline and the tension was gone. Mallory watched throughout the night as a dark bruise formed where her fist had connected, but didn’t feel guilty or proud. It was like something broke away with the impact. He no longer seemed like an untouchable troublemaker and she was no longer a vulnerable kid. It was like some bastardization of mutual respect. Johnny bought the two of them a few beer they stayed till the rest of the drunkards were shooed out. The owner mumbled something about freeloaders or degenerates or something, but let them stay a little longer. The radio played a slow song with a sweet voice longing for somebody who used to love them. Somehow the two had made there way to a clearing and were doing something akin to slow dancing, fuzzy and affectionate from just a little too much booze.

Mallory turned and buried her head in Johnny’s chest. The wind was blowing again and the last bit of coziness in the old decrepit bar was gone. It didn’t feel like home and it wasn’t a sweet memory. It was the place where Mallory had entertained countless creeps and had met the man who would steal her heart for fun and break it over and over again. The man whose arms were around her as she shivered. She should have hated him, but she didn’t. The two left on Johnny’s motorcycle, leaving behind what was now just a crumbling pile of bricks and tile. All the memories had been rung out of it, and it was just another thing to leave behind now.


End file.
